Hold This Moment
by Shalla Bal
Summary: Lisbon is trying to move on with her new boyfriend, but she can't stop thinking about Jane. What will happen when she's endangered on the job and Jane can't hide his feelings for her anymore? Jisbon! Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist or its characters. *Updated with an epilogue*...hope you enjoy! :)
1. Chapter 1

**Part One: The Involuntary Emotional Masochist**

Teresa Lisbon sat up, squared her shoulders, and made every attempt to refocus her mind on the file that lay on her desk before her. Unfortunately, her instinct reverted her vision to the window of her office, through which she could see Patrick Jane and Kim Fischer chatting amicably, standing closer together than was strictly necessary. If she was honest with herself, she'd have to admit there was practically steam pouring out of her ears every time she had to see those two seemingly flirting around the FBI offices. She'd admit that she felt anger, jealously, disappointment, and a churning, almost nauseous sensation that swept over her from head to toe.

But instead of indulging in some mental pity party, Lisbon opted for the only form of retaliation she knew: she called her new boyfriend and arranged a dinner date for that evening. Once again, seemingly for the millionth time, Lisbon prayed that going through the motions of moving on from her feelings for Jane would result in _actually _moving on at some point in the near future. As Fischer giggled - actually _giggled _- and blushed predictably at Jane's latest witty remark, like some hapless schoolgirl (how many times had she been guilty of the same crime against womanly pride?), Lisbon replaced the phone in its cradle and felt only slightly better.

Then her mind relapsed into a familiar slideshow of memories that stoked the flames of repressed love and frustrated devotion within her, a deluge of feeling she was just a little too addicted to. She knew now, with a startling clarity that had only dawned on her since Jane's return from Mexico, that she had been in love with him since their first meeting. For several years after that, she'd managed to cloak her feelings, even from herself, with the constant reminder of everything that stood between them. They worked together. He'd been through the most horrific ordeal a human could endure, and it would be completely understandable if he never loved again. On top of that, he was so often insubordinate and even cruelly manipulative that the idea of a relationship with such a disrespectful and reckless man seemed absurd as well as impossible. These were, of course, insuperable barriers to any romance between Jane and Lisbon. And her powerful pride and sense of her own self-worth as a professional and as a person had helped her keep those walls intact.

But everything had changed in those last two years of the search for Red John. Lisbon sensed, in retrospect, that this was when Jane had let her in, more and more every day, finally treating her as a trusted and respected equal in his investigation. He shared with her elements of his investigation that no one else knew existed. How many years had she spent craving that level of trust from him? From this change on his side resulted a new intimacy between them that she knew he _must_ have felt. It was an intense chemistry that seemed to sizzle between them more strongly every day that they worked side by side. Did Jane tell himself that this closeness was just the bond of friendship? Was that actually all he felt? Given the sparks she knew were real between them, it was hard to believe that her feelings were unreciprocated.

Sure, he hadn't let her in 100%. There were even those times that he'd lied to her again and twisted circumstances to leave her stranded while he charged into danger alone. Sometimes, when she thought about that day he'd hugged her tightly and then abandoned her on that beach, she felt like she'd been standing there still ever since. Waiting for him to return, to say it was all a mistake, that he loved her, needed her, couldn't be who he was without her. Even in that state of mind, she also knew he'd tricked her to protect her, cheating her of the ability to protect _him_, as usual.

Similarly, she often flashed back to the day he'd "shot her" in her office, the level honesty in Jane's voice when he had said "love you," despite his shaking nervousness. And she still felt as if she was rooted to the floor, shot to the gut with an overwhelming longing that consumed her. Maybe he hadn't meant that he loved her in _that_ way. Maybe he had. Jane was an uncrackable code. Yet, there was no one - and this was still true, she knew - whom Jane trusted as much as he did her.

All those little signs that he felt the same...when he took her hand on the side of the road on that terrible day when Luther Wainwright was killed...even the vulnerable, warm way he'd held her on the dance-floor at that ridiculous school dance an investigation had dropped them into. What would Jane say if he could see into Lisbon's Memory Palace? After all these years, she still felt the painful tug-of-war within her heart and mind...did he love her back? Or did he just see her as his closest friend in the world? Why did the latter possibility have to hurt so badly? Lisbon wished she could just accept the incredible gift of that friendship and trust, let that be enough, and fall in love with the wonderful man she'd been on so many lovely dates with lately.

Sadly - and she knew it _was_ sad, and embarrassing - she'd rather have been at home with a glass of red wine and the box of Jane's letters from Mexico on all of those nights she'd been out with her new chance at a normal love life. Lisbon knew she'd never be pathetic, but sometimes she felt she was teetering treacherously along the edge of it. In her calmest moments, which were rare, she just leaned back into the embrace of her love for Jane and let the warmth of those feelings wash over her, a sensation she always felt when she saw his eyes flick over her in a moment of interested analysis he tried to conceal. There was something unspoken in those glances he perhaps unconsciously gifted her with...even in her lowest ebbs of doubt he cared, she knew those looks meant something serious.

A knock at the door. She raised her own eyes to see Cho standing there, comfortingly standard in his nonplussed gait. "Hey Boss. Caught a new case," he announced, nodding over at Abbott, who stood across the room with a phone cradled between his cheek and shoulder. Lisbon fought the urge to leap up, so relieved at this new distraction.

"I want you, Jane, Fischer, and Cho in Dallas five minutes ago," Abbott ordered with his trademark bluntness. Lisbon knew the drill. Another dead body, more justice to be sought for the poor soul whose life must have been entangled in a saga that crossed borders and enmeshed many other lives as well, or it wouldn't be federal and Abbott wouldn't be so worked up. She hated that someone had most likely been murdered. But she _needed_ this case right now, despite the fraught company she'd have to solve it with.

"You'd look great in a Stetson," Jane murmured in her ear. She wanted to jump ten feet in the air, she was so startled by his sudden, infuriatingly sensual presence, his hot breath brushing her skin and raising goosebumps all over her body. However, she drew on the abilities she'd honed over the years and stood her ground, nonchalant and cool as ever.

"I know," she replied with an easy smile. She watched the crinkle lines around his grin increase at her acquiescence in the humorous moment, saw that familiar, yet still exciting habit of his recur - the way he gave her a once-over as if he was looking at her for the very first time. Why did he still look at her that way, and then with such a self-conscious, almost self-reproaching demeanor, look away? The mystery still seduced her, to her dual aggravation and happiness, everyday. Somehow, his mystery gave her life more meaning than anything else. It was crazy.

She loved and hated Jane's new, post-Red John, post-Mexico look with a passion. The way he looked so thrown together all the time, when she knew he meticulously planned every aspect of his appearance, was annoying. The irritatingly sexy stubble he kept almost growing into a beard, for example, clashed noticeably with his perfectly coifed hair. He wore his hair slightly slicked back now in a way that complimented his absurdly handsome face, features marked irreparably by the pain he'd gone through during Red John's reign. Jane looked exhausted and energized at the same time, just as he always had. There was no new skip in his step now that he'd killed Red John. Lisbon had called that one. Somehow, she'd sensed that taking the life of that evil son of a bitch would do next to nothing to alleviate the agony of losing Angela and Charlotte. She feared nothing could, not even her own love, had he loved her back. This fear chilled her to the core.

"Fischer, have you ever worn a cowgirl hat?" Jane asked Kim, leaving Lisbon's side and striding over to the other woman. Lisbon again suppressed the urge to scream. What in God's name was wrong with this man, and where did he get off with these childish antics, playing Fischer and herself off of one another like pawns? It pissed her off so much that she'd forced herself to befriend Fischer to spite Jane, despite the resentment she felt towards her - resentment that was, of course, not Fischer's fault. None of it was Fischer's fault, she reminded herself. She had no idea how Lisbon felt, Teresa reasoned. Moreover, what woman, lonely and sensitive as Kim clearly was, could possibly resist the dazzling charms of Jane turned up to level ten on a daily basis? It couldn't be done.

"Jane, have you ever tried just doing your job?" Lisbon quipped, leading the gaggle of agents out of the office and towards the elevators.

"Don't tempt me to go back to my couch, Lisbon," Jane retorted, and Fischer rolled her eyes as if she was_ part _of all this somehow. Was she? How had this stranger become embroiled in the repartee that had flown between Lisbon and Jane for more than a decade? As bizarre as her life since meeting Jane had become at various intervals, this newest development, Kim's strange presence, the way she stood cluelessly between them somehow, was the most remarkably and hurtfully strange.

Jane was a habit, Lisbon realized, a crutch as irrefutably all-encompassing and destructive as any addiction to drugs, alcohol, gambling, or whatever could possibly be. Like some maniac who magically concealed her mania, Lisbon kept on stumbling forward, hiding her inner conflict with an ease that disturbed her. She was an involuntary emotional masochist, and if this was an addiction, she feared she'd never earn the proverbial "days clean" chip for her love for Jane.

Once they arrived at the crime scene, Lisbon flinched as she always did at the sight of the corpse, worn away by days of exposure. She listened as Jane made a series of casual, self-congratulatory assessments about the murdered man that illuminated the scenario considerably - of course. Lisbon fell confidently back into their well broken-in rhythms: Jane made his Holmesian observations and played his little games so perfectly. Lisbon interwove his shenanigans with real-world considerations and played the cop, taking action based on their collaborative detective work. It was a satisfying, successful, well-oiled machine, their partnership. It was clear as Fischer stood awkwardly to one side, watching Jane and Lisbon work, that the agent was not happy to do her own thing at such moments, as Cho was (Kimball was off interviewing some witnesses). Kim was unable to mask her insatiable curiosity about Jane and her desire to involve herself in his games for the thrill it gave her. She was unlike Lisbon in that inability, and in practically every other way except the only one that mattered, Teresa realized, torn somewhere between sympathy and that newly old hat, rueful dislike she harbored towards the woman.

"I'm going to talk to the victim's family," Lisbon announced to Jane. "You coming with?" She steeled herself, as always, against the likelihood she was about to be ditched by this gorgeous, recklessly hurtful man. She shouldn't need him by her side to do her job or live her life. Teresa knew she was strong, independent, beautiful, smart, worthy and capable of love. Best of all, she could act like she knew it, too. Worst of all, she couldn't feel like she knew it.

"Sure," Jane said in an intriguingly curtailed way, trailing her across the field where Marshall's body had been found. Hmm. Interesting. As always. Somehow, a million possibilities seemed to live inside that one word, "sure," falling from his lips. Everything about him seduced her into a half-dazed state that she was just barely able to balance with her ever-present professionalism and on-task-ness. It wasn't a disguise, that cop attitude of hers. It was just as truthful and real as her infatuated reverie. It was odd that he managed to pervade her mind-space so entirely, yet somehow his presence enhanced her abilities as an investigator too.

They were almost back to the car when she turned back to look at him again. "I'm driving," she teased, locking eyes with him, smoothly and instinctively covering the way he hypnotized her. Was she really that distracted by Patrick Jane after all of this time? Shouldn't this all be not only routine, but actually quite boring by now? Shouldn't she be sick of this inscrutable push and pull between them? Whatever the case _should_ be, clearly he held her quite in thrall still. Because when the car barrelled into her, violently smashing her body and hurtling her into the air, Lisbon couldn't have been more completely off-guard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: As long as you know that...**

Lisbon's eyelids fluttered sporadically and her heart hammered relentlessly off-kilter. The pain surged through her head, pounding horribly down through her upper body and aching through her legs. What was broken? What_ wasn't_? Maybe_ she _was just broken, in body now as well as in her heart.

"Teresa!" She heard Jane's voice rip through the air as violently as that iron and steel had hit her. _Teresa_? God, he never called her that. She'd always loved the way he pronounced her first name, lavishly lingering over its inflections the way he made everything seem grand and luxurious somehow. Yet the last time he'd called her by it, Jane had basically been tripping. She remembered the light in his eyes when he'd smiled at her and said "Teresa, you can call me Patrick." As the physical pain lanced through her once more, she winced against the memory of how happy he'd made her by saying that. And later, by calling her "belladonna" in the hospital after awakening with her name on his lips. Right before he tricked her and ran out on her. Again. Dammit.

Jane screamed her name again. Screamed. She couldn't be imagining that, as out of it as she was. The shock and horror in his voice stretched it to its limitations, and it broke on the second syllable before finding itself again the third time he called to her. Suddenly, he was by her side, cradling her face in his warm hands. As her eyes fluttered open and were forced shut intermittently, she tried hard to maintain consciousness, to revel in this closeness to Jane.

Lisbon felt Jane's usual facade of charmed gracefulness and manipulative savvy fall away as his eyes searched hers with that same probing neediness she'd only felt flashes of before...now he was full-on looking into her soul, desperate to find it, clutching at the hope of her being alright with an intensity that shocked her. She knew he loved her, even if it was just as his best friend in the world and not in a romantic way. But the intensity of him right now was unbearable.

She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, trying to start forming words. The "J" in "Jane" couldn't quite come together. Still she kept blinking helplessly, reaching out to him with all her heart.

"Her eyes are open!" Jane shouted to someone - Cho? Probably. "She's breathing!" He added, gratitude for this discovery shining across his face. She could faintly detect the sound of Cho's clipped, worried-sounding voice calling for an ambulance.

There was little she could do but lie there and wait for medical attention, and she felt with wry self-derision the twisted contentment she felt under Jane's gaze, the comfort of knowing he was really there for her and entirely wrapped up in her alone right now. She could have lain there forever in some sense.

"Teresa," Jane murmured, his face inches from her own. He was half-lying on the ground, hovering above her, mindless as ever of how he looked to the outside world. "Breathe. Keep breathing. Help is coming. You're going to be fine." There was a strange and unexpected tremor in his voice, almost like he was going to cry. He swallowed hard. Teresa wondered distantly if he'd been like this the night he'd found her with a red smiley face of crusted blood painted onto her.

Jane swallowed again, looking as if he was swallowing past some kind of deep-seated resolve and making a decision that weighed heavy, but one he felt incapable of denying. Her heart seemed to straighten itself out a little as she stared back at him, the two of them seemingly isolated, alone together at last. She was weightless then. Free-falling.

"I love you, Teresa," Jane said clearly, distinctly, and secretly, pronouncing it in a low and intimate tone flecked with anxiety and despair. "I love you. As long as you know that..."

Cruelly, consciousness chose that moment to fade. Lisbon lost the thread of Jane's all-important sentence as her mind plunged into a black oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3: That thing you said...**

Lisbon felt her eyes flutter open again and saw the predictably stale white paint of the hospital ceiling staring back. A quiet little "beep-beep-beep" sound accompanied her weary attempts to fully blink back to consciousness. As her fingers fumbled lightly on the sheets, she felt another hand encompass her own. "Jane," she managed, looking across at him where he sat on the edge of her bed. Again, he was completely in her personal space. She could get used to this.

"Lisbon," Jane said back, staring into her eyes with an intimate, pensive mixture of happiness and relief. "How do you feel?"

"Horrible," Lisbon admitted, moving her neck from side to side, glad she could do so. One arm was in a sling, but her legs weren't in traction or anything, which was a pleasant surprise. Her head felt full of cotton balls, though, like the aftertaste of a bad concussion.

Taking in Jane's rumpled appearance - which was not calculated on his part this time, she could tell - and the lumpy pillow that was draped over the back of a nearby chair, Lisbon had to assume he'd slept by her bedside.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"The accident was yesterday," Jane explained.

"Who hit me?" Lisbon couldn't help wanting answers the more awake she got. Her knee-jerk curiosity came spilling out as usual. "What about the case?" She tried to sit up straighter, and Jane put a hand on her shoulder, gently indicating she should rest.

"You were hit by a man sent by the drug ring to move the body," Jane explained, quiet anger at the perpetrators evident in his tone. "Given that the driver was out of his mind on drugs, which is why he plowed into you, it stands to reason he was set up to take the fall for this murder. Cho and Fischer are looking into who the real culprit is."

"And you're not?" Lisbon inquired.

Jane shrugged dismissively. "I've got better things to do right now."

"Huh. Maybe I wasn't hallucinating," Teresa theorized aloud.

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, his voice more tense and sincere then she'd possibly ever heard it.

"When I thought you said..." she hesitated, wondering if she wanted to go down this road again.

"...the thing you said," Lisbon continued, spurred on by the warm touch of his fingers on her hand. "You said it again, what you said when you fake shot me. You know..." _You said you loved me._ Even now, as close as they were, she was intimidated by the depth of her feelings and the fear of acknowledging the heavy weight of the emotion between them.

Jane took a deep breath. "You never _imagined_ me saying it, either time," he replied slowly. "I think you know that very well, Teresa." He looked down at their joined hands against the dull grey sheets and then back at her. "I love you. I'm in love with you."

Tears sprang into her eyes, and Lisbon laughed with the tart burst of joyful surprise that his words inspired, just hearing those words cast out into the universe as if they were perfectly natural, after all that waiting.

Jane reached out and wiped a tiny teardrop away, then leaned down carefully and brushed his lips against hers. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he whispered, his stubble grating deliciously against her face as he pulled slightly back.

"I'm in love with you too," Lisbon half-whispered, surprised at her easy capacity for an honesty that had previously terrified her.

"I know," Jane grinned, smugness returning to light up his features. She batted at him with her non-bound hand, the other one snugly encapsulated in an awkwardly-angled contraption she wanted off right now.

"You bastard," Lisbon snarked. "I'll get you for that."

"I hope so," Jane replied, stroking her fingers slowly, in circular patterns that made her heart beat faster rather than calming her.

"Why tell me now?" Lisbon asked, even though she knew the answer. She deserved to hear him say it, though.

"I thought I might lose you," he admitted, powerful emotion swimming in his eyes as he gazed at her. "I felt like I did that night at Brett Partridge's, only worse. The worst feeling in the world. The idea that you might leave me. And you'd never even know how I felt."

"Maybe I _did _know," Lisbon sighed. "Sometimes. I thought I did. And then you'd throw me off and make me doubt it again. Like lately, with Fischer. What's that all been about, anyway?"

"I was afraid," Jane answered without hesitation. "I've never gotten over that feeling that I could never tell you how I felt without losing you somehow. First it was because I'd have been putting you in danger." Lisbon nodded, thinking of Red John.

"And then," he continued, "I couldn't tell how you felt when I got back from Mexico. I thought I'd made you wait too long and you might not want to..." He paused and then said, "To be honest, I've been flirting with Fischer to try and get a rise out of you. But instead, you went and got a new boyfriend, so..." he trailed off, his face expressive of a secret tide of his own jealousy Lisbon found oddly vindicating.

"Hmm," Lisbon couldn't believe the time they'd wasted worrying about how the other felt. "Well, I could pretend to be surprised you'd use some innocent bystander as a pawn for your own purposes, _but_..."

Jane guffawed. "Oh please, Lisbon. How about Johnny FBI? What were your motives in hooking up with that sap?"

"_Sap_?" Lisbon repeated, more amused than annoyed. Clearly, Jane had been more than a little jealous. "Well, I wasn't dating him to get a rise out of you."

"You don't need to make me jealous to do that, Lisbon," Jane murmured, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes that undid Teresa completely and made her want to hide in the pillow. She knew how intensely she must be blushing right then.

"I was dating him," Lisbon couldn't help laughing despite the seriousness of the discussion, "to try and move on from you."

"And now?" Jane asked, leaning close to her again, running his fingers over her mouth in that hypnotizing circular pattern he'd used on her hand. Now her insides were thoroughly gelatinous. "Now what do you want to do?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Lisbon retorted. She leaned her face up and kissed him the way she'd wanted to do so many times, running her good hand through his hair. It all felt just the way she had always imagined that it would, which was insane. His mouth was thoroughly delectable, his control over her desires undeniable.

"Well, for one thing, now I have to break up with 'Johnny FBI', and you have to have some kind of talk with poor Kim to explain why you won't be playing verbal footsie anymore."

"I didn't actually _date_ Kim, though," Jane pointed out. "Unlike you, I have limits."

"Oh, please," Lisbon snipped merrily. She wasn't looking forward to that break-up chat or hurting a good man's feelings, but she was too wrapped up in Jane right then to devote much mental energy to anything or anyone else. Had she earned the right to be that selfish after all this time?, she briefly wondered.

"Just wait until you're back on your feet," Jane murmured. "I'm going to give you the night of your life." Okay, now that was distracting.

Lisbon blushed furiously and felt her eyes widen to their full capacity. "Is that so?"

"You bet. I have a lot of lost dates to make up for, you know."

"That's true," Lisbon agreed. "What was that name you called me earlier, by the way?"

"You mean Teresa, Teresa?" Jane grinned his trademark huge grin. "Are you thinking about calling me Patrick now, too?"

"Maybe," Teresa allowed, "under the right circumstances."

"_Now_ who's flirting?" Jane asked, kissing her again. She could feel his restraint because of her injuries, and despite the fact that anyone could've walked in right then, she cursed the sling and her messed up, sore state.

Speaking of anyone walking in...a brief knock was the only warning before Cho entered, bearing a typically sparse floral arrangement that he set down on the small table beside her bed. Cho looked tired, reflecting his continued hard work on the case. He crossed his arms, quickly assessing Jane and Lisbon's positions, their faces barely an inch apart.

"About time," Cho said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and flashing a very rare and extremely small smile that warmed Lisbon's heart. She blushed again.

"Excuse me?" Jane asked. "I'm sorry, _what_, Cho? Weren't you the one who told Rigsby it was crazy of him and VanPelt to think me and Teresa were in love?"

"Wait, Rigsby and VanPelt _knew_?" Lisbon questioned, intrigued.

"Of course they knew," Jane continued smoothly.

"I was just trying to cut the tension that night, man," Cho explained. You looked like you were about to have a heart attack when Wayne brought it up."

"I did not," Jane insisted, but then he laughed inevitably. Lisbon laughed again at the way she and Jane had tried to hide their feelings for so many years. Now it seemed absurd. Even Cho made a noise that sounded distinctly like a _very _short chuckle.

As Cho filled them in on the progress he and Fischer had made in finding the killer, the culprit who'd tried to cover their tracks with a patsy, Lisbon settled into the habitual flow of exchanging theories with him and Jane. But after a few minutes, Jane himself intervened.

"Okay, I think that's enough work for you today. Remember, this isn't our case anymore," he reminded Lisbon.

"Jane, are you being..." Teresa trailed off, intrigued and flattered more than irritated by his presumptive and somewhat controlling manner.

"Protective?" Cho put in. "Yeah. Definitely. I'm gonna leave before I throw up," he remarked, nodding at them both while failing to conceal another minuscule smile on his way out.

"Jane, are you trying to protect me by not letting me do my job?" Lisbon asked after Cho left, unable to hide the fact that this pleased her, though it went against her nature in every way.

"Definitely," Jane said in that low, sexy tone again. "Lie back. I'm going to get you some extra pillows and blankets, and order you some real food. You'll see, I'm going to take care of you, Lisbon."

"Patrick?" Teresa stalled him, trying out the sound of calling him by his first name.

"Teresa?" Jane smiled, sitting back down beside her.

"Right before I lost consciousness, after I was hit, I heard you start to say something else. You said, 'I love you. As long as you know that...' and then I blacked out. I was just wondering what you said after that." She stared at Jane, all pretenses of not being fascinated by him completely discarded.

"I didn't finish what I was saying because then I saw you go out," Jane recalled. "I don't know what I would have said, but what I meant was that I _had _to tell you, that I needed you to know. It was all I could tell you and all I could think of at that moment. That I loved you. I hated myself for waiting so long to be honest with you. As long as you knew, at least it wouldn't be completely for nothing. But if anything had happened to you, I never would have forgiven myself." 

_If anything had happened to you_...a vague phrase that revealed Jane's inability to give voice to his fear that she could've died. Jane's voice shook subtly and she wanted to comfort him in the midst of all the guilt she felt emanating from his very being.

"Hey, I waited too long to tell you, too," Lisbon said, taking his face in her hands. He leaned down for yet another soft kiss and then rose once more.

"I'm serious about those amenities, Teresa," he said with that same protective, romantic expression that made her deliciously self-conscious and let her feel well taken care of indeed.

When he headed out to update her supplies, Lisbon tried to relax. Because this time, despite his track record, Teresa knew Jane wasn't going to run out on her. This time, he was staying.

She was right.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: Devotion

Two weeks later

Lisbon frowned down at her white sandals, which were plain, yet delicate. She bit her lip. What was she doing? She almost wanted to run in and change back into her jeans and button-down blouse, but it wasn't possible to do that without running into Jane anyway.

When Jane had kicked her out of her own house, informing her that he needed to set the scene for their first real date there, Lisbon had been excited and agitated, which she communicated through sarcasm as always. Now there was no escape from this massive moment in her life, and it wasn't that she didn't want to embrace it with all her heart. It was just so mind-blowingly huge to her that she felt intimidated, and the fact that she'd felt the need to wear an actual dress just increased her nerves.

Lisbon never dressed up unless under duress. Like that night of the undercover operation when, in an effort to smoke out some art thieves, Jane had arranged for her the persona of a sultry party hostess, complete with a tight, low-cut, yet beautiful white dress. Now that she knew how he'd felt all along, Lisbon couldn't help retrospectively analyzing such memories. Jane had chosen her to play his girlfriend in the sexy, pretty dress. He'd let Fischer go and fake-seduce their mark, not wanting Lisbon away from him or in that situation with another man. Teresa realized that her jealousy of Fischer had been ill-founded and she'd been ignoring the facts that proved it.

Lisbon had spoken with Marcus soon after leaving the hospital, and to her relief she found that he was kind and understanding about why she had to break things off with him. He confessed that he'd always suspected the connection between herself and Jane and, while disappointed, he couldn't pretend to be surprised.

The little white dress had been a costume, binding and uncomfortable, but now, this was the real Lisbon. Naturally, the only sensible thing to do that afternoon was to Skype with VanPelt, who had told her that the soft orange colored, grecian-style sundress she now wore made her eyes "pop" and illuminated her features. Teresa had even accessorized with a thin gold necklace and matching earrings. Grace had been practically bubbling over with glee that Jane and Lisbon had finally gotten together, and admitted that she'd been rooting for them all along.

Teresa played with the loose strands of dark, curly hair that haloed her face, the rest of it scooped into an up-do which felt light and airy. Did it look stupid? The idea of running away seemed more and more appealing, but she was frozen where she stood.

Jane opened the door and did a double-take. Her self-doubt evaporated as she took in his appreciative gaze. "You look incredible," he said. "Were you ever gonna knock, by the way?"

"I shouldn't have to knock on my own front door," she retorted.

"Come in, come in," he invited, making her wonder if he was trying to be as sexily provocative as he was. As he always was to her. He had on a plain white button-down shirt with a pair of slacks - blue, of course, and looked clean, fresh, and altogether gorgeous. Thankfully, he hadn't shaved the semi-beard, which she loved.

Lisbon took in the sight of her dining room, previously anchored by a couch, t.v. tray, and t.v., now adorned with a floor picnic surrounded by candles. A bottle of champagne nestled in ice and she could smell delicious food cooking in the kitchen. All of a sudden, she couldn't even catch her breath.

"Is everything okay?" Jane asked, seeming somehow simultaneously amused by her, concerned, and self-conscious about whether she liked the setting he had created.

"It's beautiful," Lisbon assured him. "I'm just feeling a little.." she ran her hand up and down the air in front of herself, grateful that the cast was finally off that arm. "All of this," she said, starting over, referring to her outfit and the overall fanciness and pressure going on here, "is making me feel..."

"Nervous?" Jane asked, taking her hands and gazing into her eyes, making her heart skip a beat.

"Yup, that's the word," she agreed. "Are you?"

"I'm terrified," he admitted, and Lisbon could tell Jane really meant it, too. There was an excitement in his demeanor that was definitely amplified by pure electrified fear. "But I'm something else, too," he added quickly. "Something really weird."

"What's that?" she smiled inquisitively.

"I'm happy," Jane explained, grinning that male model grin that always made her melt. Lisbon was so glad she didn't have to hide that meltiness under a mask of friendly comradery and nonchalance anymore. It seem as if years had come off of both of their lives since they had admitted their feelings, Lisbon realized. A contentment shone through their nerves and lit them both from within.

"Dinner will be ready shortly," Jane announced.

"Thanks for cooking," Lisbon said, "what are we having?"

"That would be telling," Jane replied smoothly. Lisbon rolled her eyes and that made his grin widen.

"In the meantime," Jane suggested, "obviously, you want to dance."

Lisbon stared at him. Was he quoting the words he'd said to her that night at the school? How could he remember that as vividly as she did? It was years ago.

"What - with you?" she teased, quoting her own response from that past occasion.

Jane's wrist flicked out, snatching up a small stereo remote and hitting play. The opening chords of the song "More than Words" spilled out, the same song they'd danced to that night. The only time they'd ever danced together, and a memory which neither, clearly, had ever been able to shake.

"Are you kidding me?" Lisbon asked, her face feeling hot, her heart beating quadruple-time, and her eyes filling with tears. Again, she couldn't believe the power he had over her emotions, and how overwhelming it felt to be getting all of this reciprocal attention. She wanted to pinch herself.

"I'm dead serious, Lisbon," Jane replied, a new gravity apparent in his eyes as he drew her close to his body and they began to move to the music. "Anyway, you love this song," he murmured into her ear, tantalizingly close, their bodies fused together in an intoxicating, foreshadowing way.

Lisbon slid her hands up his back and felt a sharp intake of breath from Jane, who held her even closer. They were barely even moving to the song now. Jane began to pepper kisses along her forehead and face, traveling slowly down to her neck. She couldn't hold back a small moan that seemed to spur him on. As Jane's mouth encompassed her own, Lisbon lost all memory of pride or propriety and lost herself in the feeling of soft roughness that characterized his kisses.

"There's just a little problem, Lisbon," Jane whispered almost hoarsely against her mouth.

"Mmmm?" She asked, words escaping her.

"Well, dinner's ready, but I..." Jane pressed his forehead to hers and stared into her eyes, trailing off. Patrick Jane, at a loss for words? Was this even possible?

"I know what you mean," she said quietly, pulling back a bit and taking his hand. "Why don't you shut off the oven and leave the food there for now? It'll stay warm."

"Hmm, that makes sense," Jane agreed, practically leaping into the kitchen to do as she'd suggested. He came back with a determined look on his face she'd never seen before, one that made her weak at the knees. Before she knew what hit her, Jane had laid her on the floor in the middle of the softly glowing candles, and their mouths were reconnecting with greater passion than ever. The want for each other was rising to an intolerably desperate heat she couldn't withstand, especially when she felt his hand moving steadily up her leg and under her dress, lightly brushing aside the soft, orange material. Teresa closed her eyes and arched her back, losing herself once more, completely this time, as Jane did the same.

Later, when they lay collapsed in a ring of fading candlelight, Lisbon turned on her side to look at Jane, gathering the blanket that lay over them and snuggling it tighter around her. It was getting colder now as evening proper fell, but just one glance at the insatiable hunger in Jane's eyes made her start sweating again. He played with her hair almost absent-mindedly and caught her eyes with a searching look all of a sudden.

"Do you think we were meant to be together?" Jane asked quietly, vulnerable.

"What, you mean like destiny?" Lisbon asked, not sure where he was going with this.

"Or fate," Jane suggested, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her. Teresa knew he must spend a lot of time trying to make sense of the tragic trajectory his past life had taken, and how all of it had brought them here. It was immensely confusing.

"I don't know," Lisbon said, "I never really believed in that stuff. I think..." she let the sentence drift away, shy about continuing.

"What?" Jane asked, kissing her forehead reassuringly.

"I think God brought us together because we needed each other," Lisbon explained, sharing something so personal she'd never even thought of giving voice to it before. "And now you're here." She smiled tremulously at him. "Do you think that's stupid or crazy?" She knew Jane didn't believe in God, though he respected her faith.

"No," Jane replied, pondering her words. "I think that's beautiful."

Lisbon had noticed that Jane wasn't wearing his wedding ring. She took his hand now, studying his fingers before lacing hers through them. "Jane...you didn't have to take it off, you know. I wouldn't have asked you to, or expected it."

"I know that, Lisbon," Jane replied, his voice so quiet she could just about feel the syllables vibrating from his chest. The two of them were clinging together now. "Thank you. But it was time."

They must have stayed there for another hour, silent and entranced by each other in the shock of finally being together in every sense, before Lisbon drifted off to sleep. When she woke, her stomach grumbled angrily. They'd never eaten, she realized, sliding out of Jane's arms and out from under the blanket to scout out something in the kitchen. She grabbed Jane's shirt from the couch and slipped it on, loving the smell of him that lingered all over it. She buttoned the shirt on the way to the fridge, where she found several tubs of fresh berries that had probably been part of Jane's dessert plan. Shameless in her hunger, Lisbon popped several blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries into her mouth, opening still more fridge drawers in a half-leaning down stance.

"You cannot be serious," Jane's voice piped up behind her. She turned to see him standing there with the blanket wrapped around his waist, looking painfully perfect in all his half-sleepy, post-coital rumpledness.

"What? I'm starving," she defended, half-smiling, half-pouting, continually surprised by how easily she could turn coquettish with him.

"Don't you say 'what,' Teresa," Jane drew out her name in that sensuous way he had perfected. "You can't stand there, looking like that, in my shirt, with berry juice all over your mouth, and act as though you're innocent."

Lisbon's hunger for food abated again as she cocked her head to one side. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" she asked, drinking in his own scantily clad appearance like a woman who'd been stranded in a desert for ten years and finally had access to all the water she wanted.

They both laughed as he swept her off her feet, but everything flipped and turned deadly serious again when he pressed her back against the wall. Gasping with arousal, Lisbon felt her legs hitch up around him effortlessly as his mouth tore into her own again.

They finally ate the dinner sitting on the floor, backs against the couch, some time later. While the cranberry-glazed cornish hens hadn't stayed warm that whole time, they still tasted amazing. Lisbon took a sip of champagne and shifted the plate on her lap, content in every possible way. "So," she posited, "work's going to be different now. Don't you think?"

"Because everyone will know we're together?" Jane asked, smirking. "Is that even allowed, by the way? An FBI agent dating her indentured criminal servant consultant?"

"I couldn't care less if it's allowed or not," Lisbon said, miles away from caring about workplace romance rules like she used to. "They need us. They'll just have to deal with it."

"I like your attitude, Lisbon," Jane remarked, putting his plate aside. "I can't wait to get back to work. It's all going to be more fun than ever."

"You're nuts," she joked, playfully batting at his head. "It's going to be awkward and weird, at least at first."

"Right, as opposed to the not-awkward, not-weird way it was between us for all those years working together and never talking about our feelings?" Jane raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, you've got a point there," she admitted with a laugh.

"We're going to have the time of our lives, Lisbon," Jane continued to enthuse, "Just think: you and me, out in the field, solving crimes and making trouble, and coming home to get into even more trouble together."

"Sounds perfect," Teresa had to admit, smiling dreamily.

"No more secrets," Jane said, stroking her cheek affectionately.

"It's such a relief," Lisbon noted, thinking that not having the crushing angst of loving Jane from afar pressing on her every day would be a load off, and being with him for real would certainly make life more exquisitely magical than she'd previously thought possible.

"And just think," Jane added with great enthusiasm, "it'll be even better once we're married."

"What?" Lisbon repeated, glad she hadn't had a mouthful of food when he'd dropped that bombshell. Maybe she'd heard him wrong?

"I just hope you don't have your heart set on an exotic, far-off locale for the honeymoon," Jane continued casually. "Because I don't think Abbott's going to sign off on that. Though I do think, in his heart of hearts, he's going to be happy for us."

"What?" Lisbon repeated numbly.

"Oh, come on, Lisbon, keep up," Jane smiled mischievously, "where did you think this relationship was going? Obviously, a trip to the chapel is inevitable. Isn't that what you want, too?"

"Uh, wait, I'm sorry," Teresa felt her face turn crimson as she hurried to process what he was saying. "Jane - a-are you proposing to me? Now? On our first date? When there's a plate of food on my lap?"

"Now, now, Lisbon, that's just a plate of bones," Jane corrected her, "you ate it all. Nice job, by the way."

"It was delicious," she said tangentially.

"Don't let that bother you," he said, taking the plate and stacking it on top of his own. "And, don't answer a question with questions."

Jane stood, urging her to do the same by helping her up, holding hands. "You stay there," he commanded adorably, so intent. So she stood there waiting while he retrieved his jacket from the couch and fished something out of the pocket. Lisbon's heart stopped when she saw the tiny black jewelry box in Jane's hand.

"Wait, wait," Lisbon begged. "I'm a mess. You can't do this now!"

"What are you afraid of, Teresa?" Jane asked, looking at her with complete adoration. "You've never looked more beautiful."

As tears filled her eyes, she gave in and let him kneel down in front of her.

"So the question is, Teresa Lisbon, will you marry me?"

Lisbon stared down at Patrick Jane, who knelt with a boxed engagement ring, holding it up to her with an expression of excitement that elicited a happy giggle from her.

"Of course," she replied, falling to her knees before him and throwing her arms around his neck. "You're totally crazy," she told Jane, clinging to him tightly.

"I know," Jane answered, drawing back slightly and wiping her tears with his thumbs before kissing her with that same, insatiably searching intensity. "And worst of all, it's contagious."

Better than ever, Lisbon pondered as he slid the ring onto her finger. She thought about the life that lay before them now. And, swept up as always in the tide of love for Jane that had always taken her out of herself while showing her who she really was, Lisbon knew it was true. At last, they had their happy ending...which was more like a new beginning.

-The End-


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Everything came together very quickly after that, yet somehow it never seemed rushed. Jane had a magical ability to make Lisbon's worries evaporate, and even though she'd spent years trying to resist it, now was the perfect time to give in. They had a real church wedding because he insisted on making the occasion the way she had always envisioned it. VanPelt was Lisbon's maid of honor, with Cho and Rigsby as co-Best Men, and Wayne's son serving as ring bearer. In addition to Jane's jokes during his thank you speech and the perfect intimacy of their first dance, Teresa had a few other favorite moments to reflect on for years to come.

She couldn't help but be pleased when Kim Fischer caught the bouquet and then Cho was the recipient of the garter. Between this poetic foreshadowing and the way those two had been looking at each other lately, Lisbon theorized that a romance would soon be brewing there. On the day that she and Jane returned to work after their honeymoon at a sweet, southern Bed and Breakfast, she had teased Cho about his pointed glances in Fischer's direction. "Since when did you become so in love with love?" Cho asked in a clipped tone, unable to deny his growing emotions towards Kim. "Just don't tell anyone," he charged her. Lisbon knew there was no need to say a word. Fischer obviously knew all about it and was loving every second. And since_ when_ had Lisbon become such a romantic? Since the day she'd met Jane…she just hadn't wanted to admit it until recently.

Once Jane and Lisbon outed themselves as a couple, no grand, earth-shattering reaction had come from anyone. Fischer seemed to immediately let go of any residual attraction to Jane out of respect and happiness for them, and that was made easier by the fact that she'd already started to move on in her heart of hearts. Abbott, who had allowed himself to be charmed by Jane's mischief fairly early into his joining the team, had put on a stern act and warned them not to allow their feelings to get in the way of their work. But the slight twinkle in his eye, along with his never mentioning this command again afterwards, showed that Abbott had really rooted for Jane and Lisbon to get together since he'd known them. Well, Teresa mused, if Abbott's reasonable nature at work hadn't revealed his being at peace with their relationship, his enthusiastic performance of the Electric Slide at their wedding reception certainly had.

Far from impeding their ability to work together effectively, Jane and Lisbon's romance and marriage had only sharpened their skills. They were happy and strong together, free from the angst that had hampered their joy for so long. Now, as she chopped carrots for dinner in her home, the home they now shared, Lisbon smiled to herself at the thought of the news she had for Jane once he returned with the wine he had gone out to buy. She wouldn't be able to drink any of the wine, as she had learned that afternoon at her doctor's appointment. Excitement lit up Teresa's features as the door opened and Jane came sweeping in, immediately scooping her up in an embrace and steamy kiss as he placed the bottle to one side and held out a bouquet of roses.

"What?" Jane asked when their lips parted, scanning her face with rapid analytical scrutiny. "Something's up, isn't it?"

"You're right," Lisbon grinned, stepping back and placing her hand meaningfully on her stomach. There was no way she could resist telling him for a second longer.

"No," Jane breathed, but he didn't mean the word as a statement of displeasure. He was stunned in numbingly overjoyed disbelief.

"Yes," Lisbon assured him, laughing at his shock. It wasn't easy to surprise Patrick Jane, and she might be the only one with the power to do so, though not for long.

Tears sprang into his eyes as he regarded her standing there in a simple, pretty gray slip-dress, flushed with excitement. Lisbon loved the sight of Jane in his tried-and-true casual suit, handsome and nervous in equal measure. She stepped forward and clasped his face in her hands, kissing him tenderly as his arms wrapped around her warmly.

"Are you glad?" Teresa whispered, sighing as he ran his fingers through her hair, her head nestled against his shoulder.

"I've never been more glad about anything," Patrick told her, and as Lisbon envisioned the years they would spend together, now as a family, she knew that she felt the same way, and that she always would.


End file.
